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"You don't mean to tell me," Miss Scrotton said, after some moments of hardly held patience, "that it's Gregory?" Madame von Marwitz, having finished her second letter, was gazing before her with a somewhat ambiguous expression. "Tallie speaks well of him," she remarked at last. "He has made a very good impression on Tallie." "Are you speaking of Gregory Jardine, Mercedes?" Miss Scrotton repeated.
Perhaps, poor Miss Scrotton worked it out, the reason was that to Mrs. Forrester Mercedes was but one among many, whereas to herself Mercedes was the central prize and treasure. Mrs. Forrester was incapable of a pang of jealousy or emulation; she was always delighted yet never eager.
She looks like some of the queer old American women one sees in the National Gallery with Baedekers in their hands and bags at their belts; fat, sallow, provincial, with defective grammar and horrible twangs; the kind of American, you know," said Miss Scrotton, warming to her description as she felt that she was amusing Gregory Jardine, "that the other kind always tell you they never by any chance would meet at home."
Hamilton K. Slifer: my girls, Maude and Beatrice. We had the privilege of making your acquaintance over a year ago, Baroness, at the station in London, just before you sailed, and we had some talks on the steamer to that perfectly charming woman, Miss Scrotton. I hope she's well. We're over again this year, you see; we pine for dear old England and come just as often as we can.
"Tiresome girl," Miss Scrotton said, watching the ladies with the flowers who gathered around her idol. "She will be late, I'm afraid. She had forgotten Victor." "Victor? Is Victor the courier? Why does Miss Woodruff have to remember him?" "No, no.
Drew dans le monde without, irrepressibly, thinking of the dismal little wife in Surbiton whom I once called upon, and his swarms but swarms, my dear of large-mouthed children." Miss Scrotton wondered, as she proceeded, whether she had again too far abandoned discretion.
Everything was arranged; a house in the Highlands lent to them for the honeymoon." "Take it to heart? Dear me no; she won't like it, probably; but that is a different matter." "Gregory is radiant, you know." "Is he?" said Miss Scrotton gloomily. "I wish I could feel radiant about that match; but I can't. I did hope that Gregory would marry well."
As for Miss Scrotton, I saw her, too, and she's come out strong; you've got a friend there, Mercedes, sure; she won't believe anything against her beloved Mercedes," a dry smile touched Mrs. Talcott's grave face as she echoed Miss Scrotton's phraseology, "until she hears from her own lips what she has to say in explanation of the story.
Madame von Marwitz had taken Miss Scrotton to her own room. Karen was standing by the tea-table, looking down at it, her hands on the back of the chair from which she had risen to say good-bye to her guardian's guests. She raised her eyes as her husband came in and they rested on him with a strange expression. "Will you shut the door, Gregory?" Karen said. "I want to speak to you."
Gregory Jardine listened to these elucidations, leaning back in the sofa, a hand clasping his ankle, his eyes turning now on Miss Scrotton and now on the subject of their conversation. Miss Scrotton had amused him.
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